


Sick - One-shot

by MosquitoParade



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Sick Character, Sick Wilson, Sickfic, Vomiting, still in The Constant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-11 21:53:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18432845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MosquitoParade/pseuds/MosquitoParade
Summary: Maxwell notices Wilson is under the weather. Wilson just wants closeness.





	Sick - One-shot

Unusually greasy, matted hair was pressed to Maxwell's chest when he woke up. "Wilson?" He asked tiredly, the body mass resting against his was extremely warm. Warmer than normal. "Wilson, darling," Maxwell maneuvered the smaller man off himself, and into the grass, which greatly upset Wilson, who looked absolutely awful. Maxwell was now sitting up and Wilson was kneeling beside him.

"Why are we getting up?" Wilson's voice was distant and weak, "It's still nighttime," He quietly complained, rubbing at his tired eyes.

"Do you feel okay?" Maxwell asked abruptly, combing fingers through Wilson's sweaty, damp hair, then looking into his eyes. Even the back of his scalp felt hot and his eyes were having trouble focusing. Something was terribly wrong.

"No," Wilson leaned into the touch, just like he always did, adoring touch, "I feel awful, like someone's pounding on my head, I can't think."

Maxwell gave Wilson's sweet little forehead a kiss, the man inclined into that touch as well, "Wilson Percival Higgsbury, I do believe you have a fever."

Wilson made a small groan, "Can we sleep now?" He asked, leaning his head against Maxwell's shoulder. "I'm exhausted."

"You can go back to sleep," Maxwell said softly, petting the smaller man's hair.

"Max..." Wilson frowned, "... lay... lay down..."

"Fine," Maxwell waited for Wilson to back off, lying down and then allowed Wilson to curl up half against, half on him, as was usual.

"I feel so dizzy," Wilson whimpered after several moments of near silence, only accompanied by Wilson's off-kilter breathing, which normally fell into step with Maxwell's. Another thing was wrong.

"It's okay, just close your eyes," Maxwell suggested quietly, but suddenly the heels of Wilson's palms and then his nails were dug into Maxwell's guts and ribs and he forced himself up. "Fuck sakes, Wilson, I thought we-"

Wilson had only gotten a few meters away, still within the fire's ring, before he fell to his knees and curled up as he retched. "Wilson," The said man seemed really out of it, wobbling even as he sat, dry heaving. "Wilson, darling," Maxwell said and he ended up behind him, rubbing the scientist's back. "I'm sorry..."

Wilson shuttered, and quickly his finger's threaded through Maxwell's spare hand, "I..." Wilson gurgled a noise that was nearly words as he leaned over and threw up.

Maxwell had a lot of feelings, but didn't verbalize any of them, instead, he stayed quiet and felt Wilson's hand tighten against his as the small scientist vomited again, coughing, "M-M-Max," Wilson whimpered pathetically, still dizzy, trying to push himself away from the puddle of sick he'd made.

"Are you done?" Maxwell hadn't meant to add the disgusted tone, but Wilson hadn't seemed to notice.

"I want... I want to... to sleep," The smaller man said, hand clutching Maxwell's, which was quickly let go of, to Wilson's immediate despair, the sick man immediately beginning to distress, "M-max, no no no, I-"

Then, Maxwell picked him up carefully, the smaller man instantly calming down as he realized that he wasn't being quarantined. "Oh, no, are you going to be sick again?" Maxwell asked quickly.

"No," Wilson answered, wrapped his arms around Maxwell's shoulders, burying his face in the older man's shoulder. His neck's skin was cool on Wilson's forehead.

Maxwell struggled to sit down on the ground again with Wilson in his arms, but managed. He held Wilson tight as he laid back until they were back in their original arrangement. "My insides feel like mush," Wilson said quietly, readjusting his position several times before he seemed to find a good spot.

"I know," Maxwell said sympathetically, stroking Wilson's sweaty hair that had completely lost the shape that the smaller man struggled to keep it in.

"Are you feeling sick again?" Came the quiet question as Wilson's heart beat faster against Maxwell's ribs. There was barely a response as Wilson quickly rolled over, his entire world spinning as he tried to force himself away. He managed a few steps before he vomited with 100% less fanfare than the previous time.

"Maxwell!" Wilson cried out as he violently coughed up bits of food, spitting out whatever nasty things coated his mouth. Maxwell's body disagreed with sitting up again so soon, but he made do and scooted over to beside Wilson, rubbing his back. The small man began to dry heave before throwing up again. Maxwell crinkled his nose, but continued to soothe the other man until Wilson was a small, sobbing thing asking for Maxwell to hold him and let him sleep. Maxwell agreed, today had already felt far too long.

Wilson was soon carefully swaddled in Maxwell's suit jacket, as the taller man wrapped his arms around the curled up Wilson who found immense safety in Maxwell's chest.


End file.
